[Precise Calibre]

Next bit.

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Nothing happened. Now fully in the shadows of the forest, Isaac still held his weapons ready for any attackers that may come for him, but there was nothing. No bandits, no wild beasts, no phantoms, nothing. Struggling to keep his breaths coming in controlled and calm intervals, the tracker advanced further into the darkness, his nerves fraying more with each passing step. Again an eternity scratched by in his mind before he came to the edge of another smaller clearing.


A shadow was standing almost dead center in the grassy meadow, too short and long to be a human, or at least a standing human. Isaac moved forward silently, his heart beating heavily in his chest. Now that he was closer to the darkened form, he could see finally that it was not a man, but a wolf. Standing completely still, the wolf appeared to be concentrating on the side of the clearing opposite of where Isaac had come from. Flipping his right-hand sword so that he was holding it upside-down, he extended his finger and instinctively drew the symbol of nature into the air again. He was about to bow to the wolf as a final show of respect when it turned its head very slowly to face him, freezing him in horror. The wolf's eyes were not showing their glassy luminescence like they should have been; it's entire face was a pool of darkness that nothing stared back from but shadows. A low rumbling growl worked its way up from the wolf's depths and it turned just as slowly back to where it had been gazing before walking stiffly into the darkened forest. Isaac stood motionless for several minutes before his nerve worked its way back into his veins.


Going into a low crouch, Isaac once again struggled to keep his breathing even. He wasn't sure how he should be proceeding at this point. Something was very definitely wrong in the forest. There was a poacher running around, condition unknown and he had a disturbing feeling that proceeding any further into the woodlands might prove fatal... or worse. Glancing up to look into the distance of the forest, Isaac was alarmed to see that even the fireflies who had been flitting around almost out of sight had ceased their night-time flights. A cloud moved to cover the moon and the landscape went completely dark. It was then that he decided that moving back to the road and reassessing his situation would most likely be the wisest course of action.


As nerve-wracking as it was, Isaac maintained enough self-control to make a stealthy retreat, one eye constantly watching the direction the wolf had gone. It took so long for him to reach the Old Forest Road that he was sure that he must have aged a year by the time he finally stopped on the well-traveled path to catch his breath. There were fireflies here and a few crickets had resumed their songs. The irregular chirping calmed him to a degree and he finally felt safe enough to sheath his weapons for the first time in what seemed like years.


Crouching by a large boulder along the side of the road, Isaac decided on his next course of action. Though he had not actually seen anything to identify as a real threat, he had seen enough disturbing occurrences and bad omens to warrant his concern. The wolf had especially sent a chill into the depths of his soul. He had never had a creature in Nachtwood disregard his ritual of nature. At this point, finding the poacher that he had seen earlier seemed like it was the best idea. He could apprehend the criminal and question him about what exactly had scared him into such a disheveled flight. The question was, where to look for him?


An answer came to him by a most strange accident. On the opposite side of the road he had come from in between the trees, he could see a glow, different from that of the fireflies floating around him. It was very faint and easily missed, but Isaac had just happened to spot it out of the corner of his eye. Stalking through the woods towards the luminous aura, he realized what it was that he has spied through the trees. Foxfire was glowing ever so delicately on the surface of several trees. He was tempted by some primal instinct to reach out and touch the alluring light but stayed his hand, remembering that it was bad luck to mingle with fae workings. On a whim he started moving deeper into the woods but was stopped most abruptly when he stumbled over something.


Reaching down to see what had befouled his usually surefooted step, Isaac's heart jumped once again in his chest when he touched a hand that almost seemed like it was clawing at his leg. After jumping back from the outstretched talon and taking a closer look, by the glow of the foxfire, Isaac could see that the hand was attached to a man lying on the ground. A brief examination allowed him to determine not only that the man was the poacher he had seen earlier, but also the fact that he was very dead. His hands were outstretched in grasping gestures as if he had been trying to fight something off, though he seemed to have no visible external wounds. Moving closer, Isaac tried to get a look at the man's face but shadows kept hiding his features. Whatever had killed this man had come this way before Isaac had made his retreat, and it had killed him without leaving any marks. He would need to examine the body in better light in order to determine what he was dealing with. Looking up from his scrutiny, Isaac stopped all motion when he realized that the fireflies had abandoned him once again, as had the crickets. All the while the foxfire on the trees continued to glow, uncaring of what was happening around it.


The Weaver's Cottage as it was known, was nothing more than a burned-out stone foundation that dominated a barren clearing in the southern reaches of Nachtwood. Isaac often used the old stone rubble as a camp on extended patrols and he kept it stocked with some basic essentials such as firewood and dried food. Fortunately he hadn't been too far from it when he discovered the dead poacher. He had spent a great deal of energy dragging the dead man to the clearing, constantly looking over his shoulder the whole way. He set about building a fire to examine the poacher's corpse by firelight. Throwing a final log onto his humble fire, Isaac turned around to finally take a good look at the poacher. He felt the last strands of his resolve beginning to snap as he stared at the place where he had set the body down. It was gone...
Frantically throwing several more logs onto the fire, Issac whipped both of his swords from their sheaths and spun around wildly, seeking out an enemy, any enemy to put a face to. Something was toying with him and his resolve was on the verge of breaking. Even though he had added fuel to the pile, his fire still seemed to be pathetically feeble when compared to the looming darkness around him. The wavering, orange light danced over the ground around him, sloshing over the dimples in the soil, creating pools of shadow that melted away with each flicker.


It felt to Isaac that he was being watched. There was... something, an unknown, pursuing him. A... thing, just beyond the ring of firelight, hiding in the shadows. Something dark, something terrible. The Warden whirled around to look behind him, certain he had felt some thing's presence there; a murderous intent. There was that sound again. A scraping, that sound of something sliding across a rock or the ground. It was right behind him. He spun around again, slashing out with his swords in two consecutive slashes that would have eviscerated anything behind him. Nothing was there. The sound was behind him again. He could almost feel eyes boring into his back. He jumped backwards, thrusting his sword behind him in an attempt to stab whatever could be there. Instead he stabbed the open night air and tripped on a log that had rolled out of the fire. Landing hard on his back, Isaac wasted no time in springing to his feet, his eyes darting wildly from shadow to shadow in a vain attempt to find his attacker. His breath was coming in ragged gasps now and his head was swimming.


The sound rustled just on the edge of his hearing, to his left first, then to his right. Finally, it was right behind him again... or at least it sounded like it was. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Isaac was sure that, whatever it was, was right behind him this time. He closed his eyes, tightened his grip on his sword and rip it across his frontal arc, spinning around in the process. His fist and the sword it held powered through... nothing, empty air. The momentum from his powerful attack caused him to whirl around again before stumbling. Isaac opened his eyes to find that he had made his way over to the edge of the firelight. As he stood there swaying in the half-light he felt something brush against his arm. Finger nails... or something worse?


He sprang back towards the fire and landed hard on his rear, one of his swords clattering out of reach. Ignoring his lost weapon, he let his hand wander towards the fire where he clutched the end of a burning log. He blocked out the searing pain in his hand from the smoldering grasp he had on the improvised torch and rolled to his feet before sprinting out of the firelight and into the darkness. The guttering flame on his “torch” lit up the trunks of trees to either side of him with orange light as he sped over the ground, covering more ground per stride than he probably would have thought possible. Soon the forest was blazing past him as a pulsing orange blur. Time lost all meaning and he no longer cared if he was breathing, so long as his legs kept moving. Even in his state of panicked flight, Isaac's deft forest abilities saved him from the many mishaps that could have stopped him. He dodged low branches without seeing them and leaped over logs in the way without thinking. He became pure instinct, moving solely to survive.


Without realizing exactly where he was, Isaac broke out of the tree line for the last time and was across his own yard before his senses finally came around and he saw that he had made it out of the forest. The sword in his hand flew from his grasp and clattered to the floor as he rushed inside of his cottage and barred the door. The torch he had tossed somewhere onto the ground just outside of the door. With his hands shaking badly, he unslung his crossbow from over the fireplace and clumsily armed it with a bolt, ignoring the blistering pain in his burned hand. He backed into a corner, absentmindedly humming to himself an old tune whose origins were lost to him. He kept the crossbow aimed at the door for almost an hour before exhaustion finally set in. Collapsing in a heap on the floor, Isaac slowly sunk into unconsciousness. Forgotten on a corner table, the only oil lamp in his cottage burned its reserves into nothing and sputtered out. Starting from the window, seeping in like an oily smoke, Darkness moved in to embrace Isaac.